Calico
Arizona Territory
Calico was nothing more than a wide spot in the road just south of Fort Grant. The town consisted of a cluster of adobe and clapboard buildings loosely arranged around a small central plaza. A narrow rut road ran into one end and out the other. Calico’s claim to fame was a spring-fed well that got some help from mountain snowmelt, courtesy of a stream that ran south out of the Gila River before it petered out in summer. Most days, commerce consisted of a freighter or maybe a bone wagon, a couple of hipshot horses at a hitch rack, and a campesino or two taking siesta in the shade by counting sage balls blowing down the street. The town consisted of a blacksmith, livery, mercantile, a café that rented cots in the back and Calico Cait’s cantina.
When it came to good times in Calico, men came to Cait’s Dusty Rose Cantina. The squat adobe sprawled in the middle of town behind a thatched roof that created a shaded outdoor patio and small relief from the worst summer heat. Inside the Rose had a scattering of worn wooden tables, a hard packed dirt floor and a rough cut bar top stacked on stout adobe pillars. The mirrored back bar held an array of bottles of uncertain origin, decorated by colorful serapes and an old guitar that hadn’t been played in years.
Cait ran cards, whores, whiskey and a piano man . . . all the ingredients for a hell-raising good time. She understood men and money. A tall flaxen-haired beauty with alabaster skin somehow preserved from sun-hardened conditions, she might have made a sportin’ gal herself if she had a mind to. She had all the right curves, sloe eyes and a teasing smile. She learned early those charms were better spent distracting players fool enough to sit down at her game. Oh she knew the worth of a soiled dove all right. She employed them, and that’s where the Kid came in.
Once they hit town, it didn’t take long for the Kid and his gang to find their way to the Dusty Rose. Most men did. They might have moved on if it had been up to Rudabaugh and his two stiffs. That wouldn’t have bothered Cait. The best she could say about the one they called Dirty Dave behind his back was that he had money. The rest of the man was rattlesnake mean, stinking filth and downright disgusting. She wasn’t going to get rid of him easily either on account of the fact the Kid wasn’t going anywhere. The red-haired Irishman, O’Folliard, would stay where the Kid did. And that kept the rest of the gang around too.
The Kid fell in love with dark-eyed Rosa Diaz. Well not exactly in love, more like lust. His heart belonged to another dark-eyed beauty back in Fort Sumner, but the old fort was a long way off and Rosa’s considerable charms most nights were right under his nose. She had classic Castilian beauty, skin the color of creamed coffee and long black hair that hung in waves around proud cheekbones. She had stormy eyes and full lips turned down at the corners in a pretty pout. She wore a simple white cotton blouse off her shoulders rendered stunning by the swell of firm breasts. A red and white flowered skirt cinched to a tiny waist hugged the round of her hips. Her beauty was marred by a dirty smear on one cheek, a sign of hard work in the dusty cantina.
Cait didn’t mind the Kid hangin’ round all moonfaced and cow-eyed. He was pleasant enough and sort of cute. So long as he paid for Rosa’s company and kept his gun where it belonged, he was just business. Cait kept a pearl-handled derringer in each garter, just in case the Kid, or anyone else, got confused.
Things went along pretty much the way things usually went at the Dusty Rose. The Kid passed his time and money with Rosa. The boys got drunk and Cait took their money at cards. Business as usual, until the dusky evening that citified dude showed up for a drink. He was smooth all right, dressed in a black frock coat suit with a brocade vest, starched linen, paper collar and ribbon bowtie. He had the look of a gambler with a waxed mustache and lively gray eyes, but he never sat down to play. He sat down at a table and ordered a bottle of Cait’s best bourbon. Rosa served him. The way he eyed her hips sashay it was pretty sure he’d order up a helping of her to go along with the bottle.
“Care to fetch a glass for yourself and join me?” he said.
She set down the bottle and glanced around the Dusty Rose. No sign of Billy at this hour. She smiled and fetched a glass from the bar. When opportunity knocked, a girl might as well make a little extra on the side. They’d settled down to civil preliminaries over a drink or two when the Kid and his gang came in.
A keen sense for trouble tugged Cait’s attention away from her game. The Kid had it bad for Rosa. He wasn’t going to take kindly to the handsome stranger. She eased her hand below the table, found the hem of her dress and followed a silk stocking up her shapely calf to the butt of a derringer tucked in the garter at her thigh. The little pistol wasn’t much good outdoors, but in here at close range it packed a .41-caliber wallop that had a way of nipping nastiness in the bud. She kept a close eye on the situation as things developed.
Billy found Rosa’s back at the corner table with the handsome stranger like a divining rod draws to water. His eyes registered something unpleasant. He sauntered across the cantina while the boys headed for the bar. The stranger looked up with a flicker of recognition in his eye and eased back in his chair. Rosa sensed him.
“Who’s your new friend?” Billy asked.
She pulled a frown as if to say none of your damn business. The stranger spoke up.
“Royal Cage at your service.” He smiled.
“William Bonney.” He glared.
“Yes, I expected as much. The one they call Billy the Kid, unless I miss my guess.”
“Expected, how’d you know?”
“I heard you were in town. I decided Rosa here would be the fastest way to a friendly introduction.”
She pulled another frown, realizing she’d been used though not in the paying kind of way. She’d been irritated before, but now her Latin blood got up a wet cat fury for sure.
“So you got your introduction, Royal Cage. Rosa’s keepin’ company with me.”
Her eyes flashed anger at the suggested possession.
Cage held up his hands palms open. “No offense. I just want to discuss a bit of business.”
“What sort of business?”
“Perhaps you’ll excuse us Rosa. Be a good girl now and go fetch Mr. Bonney a fresh glass.”
She stood. Billy looped an arm around her shoulders.
“Don’t go and stray too far now darlin’.”
She shrugged him off with a look fit for a scorpion and stalked off to the bar.
Cait eased off her weapon. “Sorry boys.” She smiled and returned to her game.
Billy took Rosa’s chair.
“I say, you must like them feisty.”
“She’s a she-cat all right. Might just about have her claws put away by the time we get done. Now what’s on your mind, Mr. Cage?”
He paused while Rosa set down the glass. She brushed Billy with a hip as she turned to the bar.
He grinned his crooked grin. “See, she’s forgive me already. Where were we? Oh yeah, you were about to tell me about your business.”
Cage reached in his coat pocket and drew out a stack of crisp new hundred-dollar gold certificates. Billy’s eyes bugged. He peeled one off and handed it to the Kid.
“I like your business already. How do you come by these?”
Cage glanced around and hunched across the scarred table, his voice barely above a whisper. “I print them.”
Billy’s eyes went wide with sudden comprehension. He turned the note over in his fingers. “No shit!” He breathed.
Cage nodded.
“Where do I come in?”
“Distribution.”
He wrinkled his brow.
“You and your boys pass the bills around.”
“What’s the split?”
“Fifty for me, fifty for you.”
Billy nodded. “This is way better than rustlin’. Where do you figure to pass ’em?”
“I’m open to suggestion.”
He thought for a moment. A lonely part of him brightened. “The gold camps up to White Oaks.”
Cage sat back with a half smile and a nod. “Perfect.”
Billy stuck out his hand. “You got yourself distribution, Mr.
Cage.” And I got a reason to go back to Fort Sumner. He offered Cage the hundred-dollar note.
“Keep it.” Cage chuckled. “There’s plenty more where that came from.” He nodded at Rosa with a twinkle in his eye. “It may help mend your tattered romance.”
They both laughed.
She forgave him. And forgave him, and forgave him and forgave him again. They tossed the bedclothes in her crib to a fury. In the dark small hours they lay spent, a tangled jumble of arms, legs, rumpled sheets and discarded clothes. Billy stared at the ceiling, his body slick with sweat. His nose filled with the scent of her, his mind adrift on the echoes of sex. Rosa lifted her chin from his chest, her eyes a black gleam beneath tangled curls.
“You’re leaving.”
He came back to the moment. “What makes you say that?”
“You think about her.”
“What?”
“You think about the girl back there, wherever it is you come from.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Rosa knows. You want to own me for a time, like tonight. But your heart is not here.”
“Rosa, I . . .”
“Don’t lie. There is no need. You pay me good money. You show a girl a good time. Sometimes it is nice to be owned for a while.”
“I do mean that part.”
“I know. I feel it.”
“Forgive me?”
“Four give you?” She lifted the sheet. “I think I give you five.” She laughed thick and smoky.
He woke to the gray light of predawn. She slept beside him, snoring softly. Something about her tugged at him, just not that hard. She was right. His heart belonged to Paulita. It was long past time to get back to her. There wasn’t any reason not to go back. As long as they stayed away from cattle rustling, Chisum and his friends wouldn’t be no trouble. Hell the counterfeits were good enough he figured they’d hand out a lot of them before anyone figured out they weren’t any good. A man couldn’t come up with a better way to get rich. Time to get to it.
He eased himself out of bed. Rosa turned over and resumed her rhythmic breathing. He dressed quietly, picked up his boots and tiptoed out the door of her small room at the back to the Dusty Rose. He padded across the dirt floor into the dawning light. He pulled a chair up under the outdoor canopy. The air felt light and warm, not yet heated by full daylight. He pulled on his boots. Down the street the boys were saddling their horses. A mule drawn freight wagon waited, its canvas cover securely lashed down. Royal Cage stood by the team dressed for the trail. Billy put aside the rumble in his stomach. They were about to make some serious money.
Rosa awoke to an empty bed as she most often did. The Kid was gone. She roused herself, searching the rumpled sheets for her nightdress. Her eyes went wide. A hundred-dollar gold certificate lay on the bedside table. She smiled. What a sweet boy. Cait took the note in exchange for small bills.